


Drink Called Loneliness

by caelestialus



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Peterick, but it's ok i guess, implied peterick - Freeform, is pete alive?, it's short like my othr fic, joe is briefly mentioned, read to find out, this is weird i'm tired i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 23:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11195901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelestialus/pseuds/caelestialus
Summary: They meet briefly at a bar.





	Drink Called Loneliness

The bar smelled off ass and gin. Not the good ass, either. Still, it was an oddly soothing smell, familiar. The girl to my left was humming the tune being played by tonight's 'special' guest--yet another no-name that would never move further than this bar off the beaten path.  
If you end up here, you know you'll never be anywhere else.  
The man ended his song- "Yes, thank you, goodnight,"- and set his guitar down to sit to my right. "Coke."  
Who the hell orders a pop at a bar?  
Suddenly, wide eyes and a smile were on me. "What's a fellow like you doing in a dump like this?"  
I took another sip and got up, setting the crumpled cash on the countertop. Special Guest rose with me.  
"I asked you a question."  
"No answer needed."  
He studied me. What he saw, I'll never know. But I'm glad it was me he had taken an interest in.  
"Billy Joel."  
What the hell? I couldn't piece together this guy's mind. Where did that name come from?  
"You need some piano in your life." He paid for the untouched drink and put a hand on my shoulder.  
I pushed him away.  
"You don't just follow a stranger outside."  
He smiled again. "Have you ever read a book?"  
"This ain't a bo-"  
"It's how all the best stories start." He winked and walked out. I followed.  
I don't remember what compelled me to follow him out that night, but I'm glad I did.  
He was sitting on the hood of his car when I finally got out. I could hear a piano emitting from within the vehicle. Slightly above the instrument was a voice, gentle. The tune was familiar, and as I approached it dawned on me.  
Piano Man.  
Why?  
That's right;  
Billy Joel.  
"Like it, huh?" He smirked. What a cocky bastard.  
"Yeah."  
He took a drag from the cigarette and held it out. I declined and sat next to him on the hood.  
"What about your guitar? It's still inside."  
"I always leave it."  
"Okay."  
He inhaled again. And again. And a few more times. Crickets filled the voiceless sound.  
"You need to stop coming here," he suddenly said. The words floated in the air before finally settling into my head.  
"What? Why?"  
"You ask those too much." He laughed and shot me that smile. "I'm going to leave here in a few and you're going to go home and write a song."  
I was about to respond when I was suddenly aware of the fact that I was on the ground. The man hopped off of the hood, got inside his car, and backed away. I stood up to protest, but already were the headlights lighting the path out.  
My head was spinning. My breathing lost.  
Confused.  
I made my way to my own vehicle and did exactly as I was told. Except no song was written. A call was made. A call to the one who kept my sounds in a consistent time.  
"Andy."  
"Patrick."  
"I met a guy at a bar. Want to get back to it?"  
"I'll get Joe."  
"I think it was Pete."  
"Wentz?" I could hear the disbelief. "Wentz died, bro."  
"Let's do it for him."  
The realisation of what I had just said hit me.  
I never met Pete. Well, once. He was at a gig of our's and said we were good.  
He was a star when the coke got him.  
I didn't just meet him, though.  
"I don't know why I said that. It couldn't have been him."  
I fell into an obsessed love. "Maybe you're dreaming."  
It was never requited. I thought for a moment.  
"If I am dreaming, call me when you wake up. If you remember this. We need to play."  
"Yeah."  
"For him?"  
"For him."

**Author's Note:**

> I was tired and lonely when writing this, I admit. Maybe someone will come and take me on an adventure.


End file.
